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JOHN  D.  TOY,  PRINTER, 
BALTIMORE. 


U  737 1 p 


This  “Tribute”  will  be  sent  to  friends  in  answer  to  letters  of 
condolence  and  sympathy  from  the  gifted  and  the  good,  which, 
though  they  may  have  remained  unanswered,  were  gratefully  re¬ 
ceived,  and  failed  not  to  produce  their  salutary  effects. 

I  would  ask  that  this  little  volume  may  be  laid  aside  among  sacred 
relics  of  departed  friends,  such  as  we  screen  from  careless  eyes,  and 
the  profane  touch  of  indifference.  It  is  the  offering  of  “a  broken 
spirit”  upon  the  altar  of  maternal  love. 

I  have  made  extracts  from  a  few  letters  of  clergymen  who  have 
had  ample  opportunities  of  knowing  the  religious  character  of  my 
daughter. 

In  the  name  of  myself  and  family,  of  my  beloved  sister,  Mrs. 
Emma  Willard,  who  mourns  as  a  mother  our  common  loss,  and 
in  the  name  of  her  family  who  have  so  deeply  shared  in  our  grief, 
this  Tribute  is  sent  to  friends  at  home,  and  friends  abroad — many 
of  them  we  shall  meet  no  more  on  earth,  but  we  trust  through  the 
salvation  of  the  Blessed  Redeemer  for  a  re-union  with  them  and 
our  departed  friends  in  those  mansions  in  our  Father’s  house,  which 
He  who  ascended  into  Heaven  went  to  prepare  for  us. 

ALMIRA  LINCOLN  PHELPS. 

Patapsco  Institute, 

Nov.  21,  1855. 


683016 


iSaESHaaW-E 


€rihntf  in  tjjt  3ttcntort| 


of 

$m  or f or  fiitcdn. 


This  “tribute  to  the  memory”  of  one  dearly 
loved  and  tenderly  cherished,  is  printed  for  private 
circulation  among  her  friends,  and  the  friends  of 
her  family.  It  is  possible  that  at  a  future  period, 
a  memoir  may  he  prepared  from  the  extensive 
correspondence  and  unpublished  notes  of  travel  by 
her,  whose  character,  though  not  fully  delineated 
in  this  memorial,  is  shown  to  have  been  a  bright 
illustration  of  the  beauty  of  early  piety,  and  of 
talents  and  accomplishments  consecrated  to  religion. 

Circumstantial  accounts  of  the  rail-road  disaster 
which  occurred  near  Burlington,  New  Jersey,  on 
the  29th  of  August,  1855,  have  been  so  extensively 
given  by  the  public  press,  and  are  so  generally 
known,  that  it  is  unnecessary  to  enter  into  the 
distressing  details.  Mrs.  Lincoln  Phelps,  with 


* 


I  her  two  daughters  Jane  P.  Lincoln,  and  Myra  L.  1 
|  Phelps,  and  her  son  Charles  E.  Phelps,  left  Phila- 
|  delphia  on  the  fatal  morning  of  the  29th,  with 
|  pleasant  anticipations  of  a  happy  meeting  with 
f  expectant  friends,  with  whom  they  had  arranged 
|  to  travel  as  might  be  thought  most  agreeable, 

I  intending,  after  a  northern  tour,  to  stop  at  Troy  on 
|  a  visit  to  Mrs.  Emma  Willard. 

Before  leaving  the  Girard  House,  in  Philadel- 

||  phia,  where  they  had  passed  the  night,  Mrs.  Phelps 
in  looking  into  the  chamber  which  her  daughters 
had  occupied,  remarked  upon  its  being  a  pleasant 
room.  Jane  said,  “it  was  near  this  room  that  I 
passed  the  night  on  my  return  to  Maryland,  after 
the  scenes  on  hoard  the  Empire.*  I  was  very  ner¬ 
vous  and  could  not  sleep,  and  was  tempted  to  ask 
the  chamber-maid  to  stay  in  the  room  with  me 
during  the  night.” 

“Oh  blindness  to  the  Future,  kindly  given;’* 

Jane  and  her  friends  thought  not  that  her  last 
night  on  earth  had  passed.  She  had  according  to 
her  practice,  whether  at  home  or  abroad,  privately 
read  God’s  Holy  Word,  and  committed  herself  to 
Him  before  she  slept;  and  on  the  morning  of  the 
fatal  day,  she  renewed  her  devotions,  kneeling 
I  for  the  last  time  on  earth  in  prayer  to  her 
God  and  Saviour.  With  Him  we  must  leave 


See  the  Obituary  notice  from  Troy,  at  page  43. 


5 


her,  trusting  that  she  will  be  ready  to  welcome 
us  to  heavenly  mansions,  when  we  shall  be  sum¬ 
moned  to  depart. 

Burlington — with  this  name  are  blended  mingled 
thoughts  of  horror  and  suffering,  kindness  and 
sympathy! 

Among  those  whom  humanity  drew  to  the  scene 
of  distress  was  Thomas  Milnor,  Esq.  In  a  letter  to 
Mrs.  Phelps,  who  had  requested  him  to  state  the 
reasons  which  induced  him  to  ask  for  the  removal 
of  the  remains  of  her  beloved  daughter  to  his 
house,  Judge  Milnor  writes,  “I  was  in  search  of 
the  body  of  Mrs.  Prescott,  widow  of  the  Rev.  Mr. 
Prescott,  formerly  of  our  city,  when  my  attention 
was  called  to  that  of  your  daughter,  over  which 
stood  her  poor  heart-stricken  brother.  It  is  suffi¬ 
cient  for  me  to  say  that  the  form  of  an  only  sister, 
deceased,  came  vividly  to  my  mind,  and  that  I 
have  too  an  only  daughter.  The  sweet,  serene  and 
placid  expression  of  your  dear  child  struck  me 
with  a  desire  to  remove  her  remains  to  a  more 
retired,  quiet  spot.  Mr.  Phelps  had  hardly  given 
consent,  before  willing  hearts  and  hands  volun¬ 
teered  their  assistance.  The  remains  were  kept  in 
a  private  apartment  in  my  house,  and  none  were 
allowed  to  enter  except  our  own  family  and 
several  ladies  who  knew  her  personally,  among 
whom  were  some  of  her  former  associates  at  school, 
who  came  immediately  upon  the  intelligence  reach- 


G 


ing  tliem,  to  take  the  last  look  of  one  in  death, 
who  was  so  universally  loved  in  life. 

Mrs.  Milnor  alone  would  have  the  melancholy 
satisfaction  of  remaining  with  the  body  at  night, 
and  the  other  sad  but  necessary  offices  were  mostly 
attended  to  by  members  of  my  immediate  family.’ ’ 

Charles  Phelps,  himself  saved,  as  by  a  miracu¬ 
lous  interposition  of  Providence,  had  by  great 
efforts,  with  some  assistance,  rescued  his  mother, 
his  sister  Myra,  and  a  female  servant  of  the  family 
from  the  wreck  of  cars,  and  human  limbs  and 
bodies,  under  which  they  were  crushed,  and  which 
were  strewn  around, — he  had  then  taken  in  his 
arms  the  lifeless  body  of  his  beloved  sister,  Jane, 
and  with  his  attention  distracted  between  the 
dead,  and  the  bruised  and  maimed,  he  had  sought, 
as  best  he  could,  to  guard  the  precious  remains 
of  the  former,  and  provide  assistance  for  the  latter. 

When  Bishop  Doane  came  to  the  chamber  where 
were  the  living  members  of  the  family,  and  urged 
their  removal  to  his  house,  Mrs.  Phelps  said:  “no, 
Bishop,  my  daughter  Jane  is  here,  and  as  I  fear, 
dangerously  injured,  I  must  stay  where  she  is.” 
Mrs.  P.  was  then  told  that  Jane  had  been  taken, 
at  Judge  Milnor’ s  request,  to  his  house,  and  the 
dreadful  truth  began  to  be  understood  by  her — but 
amidst  her  own  bodily  sufferings,  her  anxiety  for 
others  of  her  family,  and  the  effects  upon  her  mind 
of  the  horrors  of  the  scene  she  had  passed  through, 


7 


slie  could  not  realize  that  her  precious  daughter 
was  indeed  no  longer  among  the  living! 

As  the  cars  were  passing  Burlington,  a  few  min¬ 
utes  before  the  disaster,  Jane  who  sat  directly 
behind  her  mother,  next  the  outside  of  the  car, 
(Mrs.  Phelps  was  reading  at  the  time),  said: 
“Mamma  we  have  come  to  Burlington,  here  is  the 
Bishop’s  church.”  About  that  time,  in  her  usual 
attentive  and  quiet  way,  she  arranged  the  folds 
of  her  mother’s  shawl; — soon  came  the  rapid  run¬ 
ning  hack  of  the  cars — Jane  said  in  an  earnest 
tone:  “how  fast  they  are  going  hack!”  in  an 
instant  there  was  the  jarring  of  the  cars  thrown 
off  the  track — the  crash,  the  wreck,  the  groans  of 
the  suffering  and  dying.  No  sound  was  heard 
from  Jane,  and  it  is  supposed  she  suffered  hut 
momentarily  when  the  “silver  cord  was  loosened, 
and  the  golden  howl  was  broken.” 

On  Monday,  September  3d,  the  remains  were 
conveyed  to  Baltimore,  accompanied  by  near  and 
dear  relatives,  and  friends  of  the  family,  who  on 
the  intelligence  of  the  calamity  had  repaired  to 
Burlington  to  mourn  with  them,  a  loss  so  great,  so 
overwhelming.* 

Arrangements  for  funeral  services  having  been 
previously  made,  Grace  Church  in  Baltimore,  was 

•Among  these,  were  the  brother-in-law  and  sister  of  Jane,  Mr.  and 
Mr3.  D.  W.  O’Brien  of  Philadelphia,  and  her  Aunt  Mrs.  Willard, 
with  her  son  and  daughter,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  John  H.  Willard,  of  Troy. 


filled  with  the  friends  and  acquaintances  of  the 
deceased,  long  before  the  procession  of  mourners 
with  the  remains  arrived  from  the  cars. 

At  the  burial  at  Green-Mount  Cemetery,  loving 
friends  strewed  the  coffin  with  flowers  which  she 
had  so  much  loved.  The  soul  had  returned  to  God 
who  gave  it,  and  the  body  lovely  as  it  was  to  sight, 
even  on  that  sixth  day  after  death,  must  he  com¬ 
mitted  to  the  earth — “dust  to  dust.” 

At  the  hour  appointed  for  the  funeral  services 
in  Baltimore,  Bishop  Doane  came  to  the  chamber 
of  the  suffering,  sorrowing  mother,  whose  bodily 
injuries  still  detained  her  in  Burlington — here  were 
gathered  around  her  bed  a  few  Christian  friends, 
and  with  great  solemnity  and  feeling  the  Bishop 
read  a  portion  of  the  “burial  service,”  “prayers 
for  the  afflicted,”  “thanksgiving  for  deliverance 
from  danger,”  and  administered  the  Holy  Commu¬ 
nion.  This  Sacrament  the  mother  had  received 
shortly  before,  in  the  Chapel  of  Patapsco  Institute, 
with  that  daughter  by  her  side — now,  a  celestial 
spirit.  Holy  Christian  Communion!  how  comfort¬ 
ing  to  the  faithful  believer  who  trusts  in  that  sacra¬ 
ment  to  be  again  with  the  departed  ones;  whose 
thoughts  are  by  faith  raised  above  earth  to  Heaven. 

Although  no  space  was  given  for  farewell  on 
that  fatal  day,  the  mother  had  the  year  before 
written  to  her  daughter  when  leaving  for  Europe, 
her  parting  blessing,  and,  as  it  might  have  been, 


9 


f 

her  last  farewell.  This  was  written  the  day  before 
Jane  left  home  to  join  her  Aunt,  Mrs.  Willard  in 
New  York,  from  whence  they  were  to  sail  for  Liver¬ 
pool,  and  was  sent  in  a  letter  to  Mrs.  W.,  to  he 
j  handed  to  Jane  on  their  first  Sunday  on  the  ocean. 

In  my  Room,  June  21,  1854, 

4  o’clock,  P.  M. 

\  My  Daughter: 

I  sit  here  thinking  of  your  going  away, 
|  and  that  when  you  read  this  you  will  he  on  the 
|  ocean.  I  do  not  feel  that  I  can  say  much  to  you 
\  about  your  going — it  is  hard  for  me  to  realize  that 
|  you  will  be  gone — but  this  must  be;  and  I  must  feel 
!  very  anxious  about  your  safety  on  the  great  deep. 

|  You  will  become  accustomed  to  the  sight  of  the 
illimitable  waters  around  you,  and  your  good  ship 
will  seem  an  ark  of  safety, — the  Lord  grant  it  may 
be  so! 

I  have  just  written  a  short  letter  to  your  Aunt 

IW.,  it  has  been  a  solemn  act,  for  it  does  seem  to 
me  a  serious  thing  to  go  out  upon  the  ocean; — 
“we  know  not  what  a  day  may  bring  forth/ ’ 

I  wish  to  say  to  you,  my  dear,  my  eldest  born 
child,  that  you  have  been  a  good  daughter,  and 
deserve  a  mother’s  richest  blessings.  You  have 
been  to  me  as  the  representative  of  your  father, — 
and  often  when  I  have  looked  at  you  or  heard 
you  sing,  I  have  thought  “does  his  spirit  watch 
over  his  daughter?’ ’ 


2 


10 


I  have  felt  that  you  sympathized  with  me  more 
fully  than  any  other  one,  and  that  when  my  time 
should  come  to  “lie  down  in  the  dust”  you  would 
he  chief  mourner, — not  hut  my  other  children 
love  me  perhaps  as  well  as  you  do,  hut  there  are 
many  causes  for  the  peculiar  tie  between  us:  you 
have  heen  long  my  friend  and  companion. 

It  is  well  you  should  make  this  tour  for  many 
reasons,  and  we  must  not  sadly  look  upon  our 
parting  as  a  last  one, — it  may  he  indeed,  so  far  as 
this  life  is  concerned— if  so  the  survivor  should 
rejoice  in  hope,  for  we  shall  meet  again. 

*  *  *  *  *  *  *  ;$ 

I  shall  not  know  where  or  how  you  are  when 
you  read  this,  hut  I  hope  it  may  he  with  a  serene 
Heaven  above,  and  quiet  surface  beneath,  moving 
over  the  waste  of  waters  with  as  much  velocity  as 
may  he  consistent  with  safety.  Your  first  Sabbath 
on  the  ocean! — and  you  will  receive  a  letter  from 
your  mother.  How  solemn  if  well  conducted, 
must  he  religious  services  on  hoard  ship! 

******** 
What  a  little  I  have  said  when  my  heart  is  so 
full; — it  seems  as  difficult  to  write  as  I  have  found 
it  to  speak  my  farewell  thoughts. 

******** 
When  I  gave  you  up  to  go,  it  was  after  silent 
and  prayerful  communion.  The  romance  of  the 
undertaking  is  absorbed  in  thoughts  of  the  reality. 


11 


I  am  solemn  and  inclined  to  be  silent.  I  must 
part  with  you,  leaving  my  full  heart  unburthened. 
I  cannot  touch  upon  the  events  of  life,  and  try  my 
feelings  by  dwelling  on  the  past,  or  by  looking 
into  the  future.  “The  Lord  reigneth,  let  the  earth 
rejoice/ '  may  this  be  our  consolation  in  all  places, 
and  under  all  circumstances. 

My  dear  child,  I  will  attempt  to  write  no  more; 
it  does  not  relieve  me — I  can  tell  you  nothing  you 
do  not  know.  It  is  an  artifice  to  deceive  myself 
with  the  idea  of  writing  you  a  letter.  You  must 
be  some  days  without  hearing  news  of  us,  and  we 
must  be  anxious  about  you  for  still  more  long 
days. 

I  need  not  say,  be  attentive  to  your  dear  Aunt; 
this  I  know  you  will  be,  and  God  will  bless  and 
reward  you  for  all  the  good  you  do. 

******** 

I  do  not  remind  you  of  your  religious  duties;  I 
trust  you  have  a  more  faithful  monitor  within  your 
own  breast  than  I  am,  or  have  been  to  you. 

God  bless  you  my  dear  child,  now,  and  forever. 

Your  Mother. 

This  “Farewell”  was,  as  Jane  afterwards  said 
to  her  mother,  kept  by  her  and  read  daily,  until 
mother  and  daughter  were  re-united  in  Liverpool.* 

*  Jane  after  their  arrival  in  England  had  urged  her  mother’s  follow¬ 
ing  them,  dwelling  on  the  safety  of  the  ocean  steamers,  and  the  fact  that 


12 


I  From  the  Rt.  Rev.  Wm.  R.  Whittingham,  Bishop  of  Maryland. 

East  Hampton,  L.  I.  Sept.  6th ,  1855. 

Dear  Mrs.  Phelps: 

I  learned,  last  night,  the  particulars  of  your 
great  calamity,  of  which  only  broken  and  contra¬ 
dictory  accounts  had  previously  filled  us  with 
alarm  and  sorrow. 

I  learned  too  with  heartfelt  thankfulness  to  God, 
that  His  good  Spirit  had  already  filled  you  with 
the  only  consolations  which  can  avail  under  a  heart¬ 
rending  stroke  like  that  which  in  His  inscrutable 
wisdom  and  love  He  has  suffered  to  fall  upon  you; 
and  that  in  child-like  faith  you  had  been  enabled 
to  cast  yourself  wholly  on  the  all-sufficing  love  of 
your  Redeemer,  accepting  His  will  as  yours,  and 
humbly  adopting  the  language  of  His  inspiration, 

from  them  no  lives  of  passengers  had  ever  been  lost.  Mrs.  Phelps  had 
engaged  passage  in  the  unfortunate  “Arctic,”  which  was  to  have  sailed 
on  the  19th  of  August,  but  was  superseded  by  the  Atlantic,  in  which, 
on  the  19th  of  August,  1854,  she  sailed  with  her  son  Charles  E.  Phelps 
and  youngest  daughter  Myra  L.  Phelps,  leaving  her  second  daughter, 
Mrs.  Emma  Willard  O’Brien,  in  her  place  as  Principal  of  the  Patapsco 
Institute. 

After  a  passage  of  ten  days,  the  family  landed  in  Liverpool,  where 
were  Mrs.  Willard  and  Miss  Lincoln  anxiously  awaiting  their  arrival 
at  the  Adelphi  Hotel.  Seated  in  their  elegant  private  parlor,  parta¬ 
king  of  their  first  meal  together  in  Europe,  it  was  well  that  no  human 
prescience  brought  before  them  the  horrors  of  the  Burlington  calamity, 
of  that  day  and  hour  of  the  next  year. 


“The  Lord  gave,  and  the  Lord  hath  taken  away; 
blessed  be  the  name  of  the  Lord!” 

You  have,  indeed,  every  comfort  in  the  recollec¬ 
tion  of  the  character  of  the  child  who  has  been  so 
long  lent  to  you  in  this  world,  and  now  summoned 
to  go  before  you  to  the  abodes  of  eternal  rest  with 
so  little  of  the  painful  struggle  of  mortal  dissolu¬ 
tion;  a  single  pang  has  transferred  her  from  a 
state  of  doubts,  and  anxieties,  and  fears,  and 
dangers,  to  the  blessedness  of  assured  repose, 
where  there  are  no  more  tears,  and  no  more  trials. 
It  is  but  as  a  day  that  parts  you  now.  May  its 
short '  span  be  for  you  one  unbroken  anticipation 
of  the  speedy  and  blissful  re-union  in  Christ,  your 
risen  and  reigning  Saviour,  who  hath  triumphed 
over  death  and  hell,  to  make  his  people  con¬ 
querors  too. 

What  a  mercy  too  to  temper  your  affliction,  that 
Almira  should  have  been  spared  to  you!  and  that 
both  she  and  you  should  have  escaped  from  the 
dreadful  wreck!  How  doubly  dear  to  each  other 
you  will  be  henceforth,  after  having  together  been 
brought  through  such  fearful  peril,  and  sustained 
in  one  and  the  same  minute,  such  deliverance  and 
such  bereavement! 

******** 

Be  assured,  dear  Madam  of  my  sympathy,  with 
earnest  prayers  that  our  heavenly  Father's  blessing 
may  turn  your  present  affliction,  which  is  but  for 


14 


a  season,  into  the  instrument  and  pledge  of  an 
exceeding  and  eternal  weight  of  glory. 

Faithfully  and  affectionately  your  sorrowing 
friend, 

W.  B.  Whittingham. 

Extracts  From  a  Letter  of  Rev.  Hugh  S.  Harrison. 

St.  John’s  Parsonage,  Howard  Co.,  Md. 


October  12,  1855. 


My  Dear  Mrs.  Phelps, 


The  clergy  who  assisted  me  in  performing  the 
last  sad  rites  over  your  lamented  daughter,  were 
the  Kev.  Mr.  Yan  Bokkelen,  the  Bev.  Mr.  Hutch¬ 
eson,  and  the  Bev.  Mr.  Brainard.  The  crowd  of 
loving  friends  who  lingered  around  her  hier, 
showed  how  deeply  she  was  mourned. 

Most  sincerely  do  I  sympathize  in  your  sorrow, 
most  truly  too  in  the  joy  which  must  ever  he 
mingled  with  it,  in  the  remembrance  of  such  a 
child. 

Her  quiet  unobtrusive  piety  is  best  described  in 
saying  that  she  seemed  to  live  as,  “remembering 
always  that  baptism  doth  represent  unto  us  our 
profession,  which  is  to  follow  the  example  of  our 
Saviour  Christ,  and  to  he  made  like  unto  Him.” 
It  is  now  your  blessed  privilege  to  think  of  her  as 
“a  member  of  Christ,  a  child  of  God,  and  an 
inheritor  of  the  Kingdom  of  Heaven.” 


15 


From  Rev.  Seneca  G.  Bragg,  now  of  Georgia,  who  had  been 
intimately  acquainted  with  Jane  from  her  childhood. 

Georgia  Episcopal  Institute, 

Macon,  Ga.,  Oct.  18,  1855. 


My  Dear  Afflicted  Friend: 


My  first  topic  must  be  the  calamity  which 
fell  so  unexpectedly  upon  you  and  your  beloved 
daughter  Jane,  near  Burlington,  N.  J. 

How  sad,  how  awfully  mysterious!  What  event 
could  more  fully  illustrate  the  words  in  our  burial 
service,  “In  the  midst  of  life,  we  are  in  death/  ’ 
alas,  that  men  should  feel  so  secure  as  to  forget 
the  dangers  which  surround  them  at  every  step  of 
their  earthly  pilgrimage!  and  yet,  what  cause  for 
thankfulness  we  have  as  Christians,  that  we  may 
always  find  a  safe  refuge  under  the  wings  of  In¬ 
finite  Love! 

Long  had  your  precious  daughter  trusted  in 
the  name  and  merits  of  our  Redeemer;  and  we 
needed  no  dying  testimony  of  the  truth  and  power 
of  her  Christian  faith.  Often  had  she  read  the 
inspired  message  addressed  by  the  Head  of  the 
Church  to  all  his  members,  “Behold  I  come  quick¬ 
ly.  ”  In  her  heart  the  response  may  have  gone 
up  acceptably  before  the  throne  of  Divine  Grace, 
“even  so,  come  Lord  Jesus!”  To  Him  she  had 
committed  all  her  interests,  for  time,  and  for  eter- 


BxxsssKasiaa 


16 


nity.  It  was  not  necessary  that  she  should  utter  § 
the  words  of  resignation,  “Into  thy  hands  I  com¬ 
mend  my  Spirit.” 

Her  gracious  Lord  was  “more  marred”  than  any  1 
human  being,  and  He  has  clothed  her  with  immor-  | 
tal  beauty.  The  bereaved  mother  may  weep  in  i 
remembrance  of  such  a  loss.  Other  and  admir-  | 
ing  friends  may  mourn  as  they  speak  of  so  bright  9 
and  holy  an  example,  as  the  departed  one  pre-  j 
sented  in  her  daily  life.  Let  the  assurance  of  | 
your  daughter’s  eternal  blessedness  he  a  comfort  | 
and  support,  while  you  linger  amidst  the  remaining  1 
trials  and  sufferings  appointed  for  you  on  earth.  | 
Another  of  your  dearest  treasures  has  been  trans-  | 
ferred  to  the  “Paradise  of  God,” — another  light  j 
sheds  down  upon  your  pathway  a  sacred  influence, 
to  encourage  and  animate  you  until  called  to  your  1 
glorious  “recompense  of  reward.” 

When  you  can  do  so,  let  me  ask  of  you  some 
account  of  the  remarkable  calamity  by  which  you  \ 
have  been  bereaved,  and  subjected  to  severe  personal  j 
suffering.  My  sympathy  and  prayers  are  with  1 
and  for  you. 

May  the  abundant  grace  of  our  Lord  ever  cheer  | 
and  sustain  you  in  life,  and  death, — and  render  I 
you  meet  for  an  inheritance  among  the  glorified  in  l 
Heaven. 

Truly  and  affectionately  your  friend  and  brother 
in  Christian  bonds,  Seneca  G.  Bragg. 


From  Rev.  Dr.  C.  M.  Butler. 

Cincinnati,  Sept.  10th ,  1855. 

My  Dear  Mrs.  Phelps: 

When  a  terrible  blow  falls  upon  a  dear  Christian 
friend,  like  that  under  which  you  are  now  suffering 
a  bewildered  agony  of  heart,  one  is  divided  between 
the  impulse  to  hasten  and  express  his  sympathy, 
and  the  consciousness  of  how  little  human  sympa¬ 
thy  can  do  for  a  loss  so  terrible  and  irreparable  as 
yours.  Your  daughter’s  character  was  so  lovely, 
so  cultivated,  so  harmonious,  so  religious;  she  and 
you  were  so  much  to  each  other,  your  lives  had 
flowed  so  beautifully  and  peacefully  together,  that 
the  void  created  by  her  sudden  exit  must  he  indeed 
most  painful.  And  then  imagination  must  often 
fill  up  that  void  with  the  last  horrible  and  revolt¬ 
ing  scene  of  agony  and  blood,  in  the  midst  of  which 
she  passed  from  you,  and  in  which  your  own  life 
was  in  such  fearful  peril.  May  the  blessed  Spirit 
whose  dearest  name  is  Comforter,  be  with  you,  my 
dear  friend,  in  this  calamity.  No  ministration  less 
than  His  can  heal  your  bleeding  heart-wounds. 
Doubtless  in  Heaven  you  shall  see,  what  you  now 
know  by  faith,  that  it  was  well,  for  He  doeth  all 
things  well.  The  sympathizing  Saviour  will  not 
reprove  your  grief,  if  it  be  coupled  with  submission. 
Thank  Glod  that  he  gave  you  for  so  many  years, 
one  who  has  been  to  you  the  source  of  so  much 


18 


happiness.  Think  much  of  that  perfect  world, 
where  evil  cannot  come,  and  friends  cannot  he 
taken  away.  Do  not  let  grief  paralyze  your  ener¬ 
gies.  You  have  had  a  great  and  honorable  mission 
in  life — its  duties  still  are  on  you.  It  will  he  better 
for  health  of  mind  and  body,  and  for  peace  of 
spirit,  that  you  patiently  again  turn  to  your  high 
duties.  You  shall  again  have  God’s  own  peace — 
if  you  may  not  again  anticipate  joy.  Be  assured 
that  deep  sympathy  and  affection  are  felt  for  you, 
and  that  prayers  have  ascended  for  you  from  us, 
and  from  multitudes  of  friends. 

Although  this  dispensation  as  it  comes  from  God 
must  be  merciful  and  just,  yet  as  it  comes  from 
man,  it  deserves  the  indignation  of  an  outraged 
community.  I  feel  that  I  have  given  my  testimony 
on  this  subject  by  having  preached  at  Washington, 
a  sermon  on  the  culpable  recklessness  of  human 
life  in  the  United  States.  I  hope  you  will  send  out 
a  bereaved  mother’s  protest  and  appeal  on  this  sub¬ 
ject.  It  will  be  heard.  It  will  thrill  many  hearts. 
I  trust  it  may  quicken  many  hands  to  energetic 
action.  There  should  be  a  protective  League 
formed  in  the  large  cities,  of  men  who  shall  agitate 
on  this  subject,  publish  all  rail-road  wrongs,  expose 
all  violations  of  charter,  influence  legislatures  to 
pass  no  rail-road  bills,  but  under  stern  regulations, 
and  shame  Courts  of  Justice  into  due  punishment 
of  these  wholesale,  lawless,  remorseless  murderers. 


19 


My  whole  soul  rises  up  in  indignation  when  I  think 
of  dear  friends  thus  crushed  under  the  wheels  of 
this  relentless  Juggernaut  of  monopoly  and  power. 


From  Rev.  Wm.  H.  Clarke,  for  many  yean  Chaplain  of  the 
Patapsco  Institute. 

Locust  Grove,  Pittsburg ,  Sept.  1 6//i,  1855. 

*  *  *  *  * 

When  the  news  of  the  dreadful  accident  on 
the  rail-road  near  Burlington,  reached  me,  and 
when  I  saw  the  first  imperfect  account,  I  felt  a 
thrill  of  terror,  lest  the  real  truth  might  he,  what 
it  afterwards  proved,  that  your  eldest,  accom¬ 
plished,  excellent  daughter  Jane  had  heen  sud¬ 
denly  snatched  away  from  the  society  of  those  who 
cherished  her  so  lovingly,  and  with  whose  daily 
life  her  own  had  so  long  heen  intimately  blended. 

And  when  the  whole  terrible  truth  was  known, 
and  I  found  that  you  too  and  Myra  had  heen  in  the 
fated  train,  and  injured,  I  need  not  tell  how  deeply 
I  felt. 

The  event  was  so  sudden,  so  overpowering  in  its 
consequences,  so  utterly  above  and  beyond  the 
usual  c Changes  and  chances  of  this  mortal  life,” 
that  it  seemed  to  leave  no  room  for  consolation. — 
It  seemed  as  if  you  must  all  he  crushed  in  spirit 
under  it,  never  again  to  recover  your  wonted  feel¬ 
ings,  and  engage  anew  in  your  wonted  avocations. 


20 


Soon  however  I  realized  that  He  who  had  per¬ 
mitted  the  blow  to  fall,  is  the  God  of  all  comfort, 
and  that  of  His  merciful  compassion  He  would  find 
means  to  heal,  or  bless  to  the  mourners,  the  results 
of  a  sorrow  even  so  piercing  and  deep  as  your  own. 

Human  words  can  minister  little  comfort  in  such 
cases;  human  sympathy  even  when  kindest  and 
purest,  falls  far  short  of  what  it  would  accomplish, 
and  I  have  often  felt,  that  in  great,  crushing  trials, 
we  can  only  leave  the  tried  alone  with  God,  com¬ 
mending  them  to  His  kind  care  in  humble  confi¬ 
dence  and  love.  And  yet  even  those  who  know 
best  how  to  comfort  others,  and  who  turn  most 
readily  to  our  Father  above,  in  their  hours  of  sad¬ 
ness  and  suffering,  are  not  beyond  the  influence  of 
the  sympathy  of  friends,  poor  though  it  be.  It  is 
with  this  feeling  that  I  now  write  for  my  wife  and 
myself,  not  to  comfort,  but  to  tell  how  we  mourn 
with  you,  how  we  would  comfort  you,  if  we  knew 
how  it  could  be  done,  how  we  trust  and  know  that 
you  are,  and  will  be  more  and  more  consoled, 
through  the  ever-working  love  of  Him  who  hath 
borne  our  griefs,  and  carried  our  sorrows. 

Of  your  dear  departed  daughter,  I  might  say 
much, — of  her  beautiful  Christian  character,  and 
her  strange  fitness  to  adorn  this  world  or  the  next. 
But  it  seems  to  me  almost  wrong  to  speak  of  one  so 
~  lenly  taken  to  stand  in  the  Divine  Presence, 
thought  of  her  death  fills  me  with  awe  and 


21 


solemnity,  as  if  I  had  been  called  to  witness  the 
tortures  and  agony  of  some  holy  martyr. 

*  *  *  *  * 


From  Rev.  G.  C.  V.  Eastman,  late  Chaplain  o/Patapsco  Institute. 

Brattleboro’,  Yt.  Sept.  3d,  1855. 

Dear  Mrs.  Phelps: 

You  must  not  imagine  that  we  have  heard 
without  the  deepest  sympathy  and  sorrow,  of  your 
great  affliction,  and  your  own  injuries.  Our  hearts 
have  hied,  and  our  prayers  have  been  offered 
without  ceasing  since  we  heard  of  the  sufferings 
of  our  friends,  that  your  faith  may  he  strong,  and 
bring  to  your  lacerated  hearts  the  consolations 
which  can  alone  sweeten  such  a  cup  of  bitterness. 

In  the  character  of  Jane,  the  grace  of  God,  and 
the  hand  of  maternal  culture  had  mingled  all, 
which  could  render  her  an  invaluable  treasure. 
Yet  the  sweet  memory  of  what  she  was,  hallowing 
every  spot  with  which  she  was  associated,  will  be 
to  you,  will  be  to  her  dear  brother  and  sisters,  an 
angel  of  consolation. 

This  child  was  a  precious  trust,  you  nursed  her 
for  Heaven,  and  He  for  whom  you  strove  to  educate 
her,  and  make  her  worthy,  has  removed  her  to  His 
immediate  presence.  She  is  not  lost, — merely 
transferred  to  another  scene.  You  have  less 
treasure  on  earth,  only  because  you  have  more  in 


Heaven.  Few  mothers  have  so  much  to  regret  if 
the  worth  of  a  departed  daughter  be  the  measure 
of  regret, — very  few  have  less,  if  her  adaptation  to 
Heavenly  joys  be  the  reason  for  acquiescence  in  her 
removal . 

But  I  can  only  express  sympathy,  I  cannot 
instruct  you  in  the  lessons,  or  in  the  duties  of 
affliction.  You  have  had  vastly  more  experience 
than  I  in  the  stern  lessons  of  bereavement,  and  in 
the  merciful  supports,  which,  under  the  sufferings 
of  the  heart,  the  compassionate  Bedeemer  dispenses 
to  those  who  trust  in  His  mercy. 

******** 

May  God  bless,  support  and  keep  you,  and 
restore  you  to  perfect  health  is  my  sincere  prayer. 


Extracts  from  a  Letter  of  Rev.  James  Moore, 
formerly  Professor  at  the  Patapsco  Institute ,  and 
Rector  of  St.  Peter’s  Church ,  Ellicott’s  Mills. 

Princess  Anne,  Md.  Sept.  12th,  1855. 

We  have  all  ever  cherished  a  lively  affection  and 
sincere  Christian  regard  for  Miss  Lincoln.  Often 
have  I  referred  to  her  as  affording  a  beautiful 
illustration  of  all  that  is  essential  to  constitute  a 
Christian  lady;  her  sweet  unassuming,  hut  dignified 
manners,  her  gentle  condescension,  her  mild  and 
sweet-tempered  conversation,  and  her  uniformly 
devout  manner  at  church,  in  the  worship  of  God. 
Never  was  it  more  truly  fulfilled,  that  “death 
loves  a  shining  mark.” 

At  this  moment  I  imagine  I  can  see  her,  as  in 
her  kindness  of  heart,  and  with  the  disposition  to 
gratify  others,  which  were  such  prominent  traits, 
in  her  character,  she  seated  herself  at  her  harp, 
and  so  skillfully  touched  its  chords.  Oh  it  is  a 
precious  thought,  in  which  we  may  safely  indulge, 
that  her  pure  and  disembodied  spirit,  hears  its  part 
in  the  infinite  enjoyments  of  Paradise, — that  she 
now  strikes  a  nobler  harp,  the  strains  of  which  fall 
upon  more  worthy  ears.  Is  it  not  a  high  honor? 
Is  it  not  a  marked  distinction  which  has  been  thus 
suddenly  conferred  upon  you,  to  he  the  parent  of 
one  made  like  unto  the  Angels  of  God? 


Extracts  from  a  Sermon  of  Rev.  J.  T.  Hutcheson, 
Chaplain  of  the  Patapsco  Institute ,  preached  in  the 
Chapel  of  the  Institute ,  Sept .  30£7i,  1855. 


And  Mary  hath  chosen  that  good  part,  which  shall  not  be  taken 
away  from  her.  Luke  10,  42. 

I  need  not  mention  the  circumstances  that  called 
forth  the  words  of  the  text,  for  there  are  none 
I  here  unacquainted  with  them.  The  good  part 
which  Mary  had  chosen,  was,  evidently,  the  inef¬ 
fably  precious  portion  of  the  Christian.  She  had 
determined  to  live  a  life  of  devotion  to  her  Saviour 
in  order  to  secure  an  interest  in  his  Kingdom. 

In  the  following  discourse  I  shall  not  dwell  upon 
the  nature  and  excellency  of  Mary’s  choice,  hut  I 
shall  show  that  the  text  is  particularly  applicable 
to  one,  who,  whilst  she  sojourned  on  earth,  was, 
like  Mary,  a  true  disciple  of  Jesus,  and  who,  with 
Mary,  now  sits  at  Jesus’  feet  in  his  eternal  kingdom 
of  glory  and  love.  To  some  of  this  congregation, 
j  she  was  very  near  and  dear,  by  others,  esteemed 
f  and  loved.  She  was  one  of  us.  Here  did  she 
|  often  unite  in  those  inspiring  and  solemn  prayers 
|  through  which  the  soul  loves  to  commune  with 
God.  Here  did  she  often  humbly  sit  and  listen  to 
I  the  gracious  words  of  her  divine  Redeemer.  Here 
did  she  often  feel  his  presence,  and,  kneeling  by 
the  side  of  the  loved  ones  on  earth,  feast  on  the 


EEEBaSES 


25 


sacred  emblems  of  his  love.  Here,  leading  in 
sacred  strains,  resounded  her  rich  and  thrilling 
voice,  and  from  the  organ  were  drawn  forth,  with 
skilful  hands,  harmonies  sweet  and  moving, 
lifting  the  thoughts  from  things  seen  and  temporal 
to  things  unseen  and  eternal.  But,  the  beloved  is 
not.  That  Saviour  whose  footsteps  she  followed 
hath  taken  her.  She  has  been  transferred  from 
the  Church  militant  to  the  Church  triumphant; 
from  the  discipleship  of  earth,  to  the  discipleship 
of  Heaven;  from  the  communion  of  Saints  imper¬ 
fect,  to  the  glorious  and  blissful  communion  of  the 
c general  assembly  Church  of  the  first  born.” 
Therefore,  whilst  we  think  of  her  to-day,  let  us 
think  of  her  as  among  the  sainted  dead,  who  on 
earth  chose  “that  good  part,  which  shall  not  be 
taken  away/’ 

With  her  it  was  never  the  privilege  of  him  who 
addresses  you  to  become,  personally,  acquainted. 
It  was  only  a  few  months  before  the  dreadful 
disaster,  which,  in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye,  re¬ 
moved  her  from  this  world,  that  he  accepted  the 
office  whose  peculiar  duties  he  this  day  begins  to 
discharge.  Little  did  he  then  think  that  in  his 
very  first  address  to  his' flock,  it  might  be  his  duty 
to  hold  forth  for  their  imitation  the  Christian  exam¬ 
ple  of  one,  not  of  the  living,  but  of  the  dead,  who 
by  her  beautifully  consistent  and  harmonious 
character,  exerted  a  most  happy  influence  on  the 


4 


26 


inmates  of  this  Institution.  But  God’s  thoughts 
are  not  as  our  thoughts;  neither  are  His  ways  as 
our  ways.  In  the  prime  of  life,  in  the  enjoyment 
of  perfect  health,  when  loving  friends  hoped  and 
believed  that  she  would  long  continue  on  earth, 
a  blessing  to  others,  He  called  her  hence,  to  remind 
us  that  uin  the  midst  of  life  we  are  in  death,”  and 
that  here  we  have  no  abiding  place,  nor  continuing 
city. 

But,  though  I  was  never  personally  acquainted 
with  her,  yet  a  sense  of  duty  prompts  me  to  speak 
this  morning  of  the  excellencies  of  her  character 
as  described  by  others,  in  order  that  I  may  have  an 
opportunity,  not  only  to  remind  the  bereaved  of 
the  sweetest  source  of  heavenly  consolation,  hut  to 
exhort  you,  my  young  hearers,  to  follow  her  bright 
example. 

My  information  has  been  derived  not  only  from 
the  general  expression  of  the  community,  but 
from  letters  of  condolence,  sent  to  the  bereaved 
family,  from  East  and  West,  North  and  South, 
and  from  friends  in  foreign  lands — many  of  them 
from  Clergymen  of  high  standing  and  great  influ¬ 
ence  in  the  Church.  All  of  the  many  friends  and 
acquaintances  who  have  expressed  their  sympathy, 
either  verbally  or  through  epistle,  have  united  in 
the  one  sentiment,  that  she  who  on  earth  sought 
to  fulfil  her  mission  has  been  taken  to  her  home; 
she  who  was  an  ornament  to  Christ’s  Church  be- 


sasccsa^"; 


21 


low,  lias  gone  to  be  an  ornament  to  his  Church 
above. 

I  propose  to  make  no  formal  eulogy.  The 
modesty  of  the  departed  would  forbid  any,  as  well 
as  the  sense  of  imperfection  common  to  our  fallen 
nature.  But  I  shall  endeavor  so  to  express  my 
imperfect  knowledge  of  her  lovely  character,  that 
her  Saviour  may  be  glorified,  her  friends  comforted, 
and  all  of  us  excited  to  greater  diligence  in  the 
Christian’s  life. 

To  speak  of  her  many  excellencies  is  indeed  to 
speak  of  the  glory  of  her  Redeemer.  Was  she  not 
“his  workmanship  created  unto  good  works?” 
Was  it  not  his  grace  that  even  in  early  childhood 
won  her  heart  to  himself?  And  was  it  not  the 
constant  supply  of  that  same  grace  that  made  her 
steadfast  and  immovable  in  her  heavenward  way? 
Yes!  She  was  a  bright  and  shining  light,  but  her 
light  was  the  reflection  of  his  own.  She  lived  as 
he  lived,  because  he  lived  in  her.  United  to  him 
as  a  branch  to  the  vine,  as  a  member  to  the  body, 
from  his  inexhaustible  fullness  she  was  constantly 
fed  with  that  spiritual  food  which  enabled  her  to 
grow  daily  in  the  likeness  of  himself.  He  set  his 
love  on  her,  and  with  his  power  he  transferred  her 
from  the  bondage  of  nature  to  the  liberty  of  God’s 
children.  He  clothed  her  with  moral  loveliness. 
He  made  her  beautiful  in  holiness.  In  her,  there¬ 
fore  he  was  glorified. 


28 


At  wliat  time  she  first  became  the  subject  of 
religious  impressions  is  known  to  Him,  only,  who 
searcheth  the  heart.  But  though  no  one  can  spe¬ 
cify  the  hour,  the  day,  or  the  year,  yet  it  is  certain 
that  it  was  in  very  early  youth  she  obeyed  the  wise 
man’s  direction:  ^Remember  now  thy  Creator  in 
the  days  of  thy  youth.”  Before  the  commence¬ 
ment  of  the  great  struggle  of  life,  she  stayed  her 
choice  on  her  Saviour,  and  determined  to  live  a  life 
of  humble  walking  with  God.  Thus  early  bound 
by  love’s  golden  cords  to  her  Maker’s  throne,  her 
path  was  uas  a  shining  light,  that  shineth  more 
and  more  unto  the  perfect  day.”  The  divine  life 
implanted  grew  with  the  growth  of  the  natural — 
ever  manifesting  itself  in  the  issues  of  the  heart, 
and  giving  character  to  the  whole  exterior  conduct. 
Ever  trusting  in  the  merits  of  her  Saviour,  ever 
striving  to  be  more  like  him  in  her  aims,  desires 
and  affections,  she  abounded  more  and  more  in 
every  thing  lovely  and  of  good  report.  To  her 
duties  became  privileges.  Religion  was  the  life, 
the  law,  the  ever-actuating  principle  of  her  being. 
Always  imbued  with  the  Spirit  of  Jesus,  she  was 
not  the  subject  of  religious  excitement.  There  was 
a  beautiful  calmness,  steadiness  and  order  in  her 
piety.  A  transparent  simplicity  and  a  strict  con¬ 
scientiousness  in  all  her  actions,  were  among  the 
most  conspicuous,  as  well  as  the  most  lovely  features 
of  her  character.  Though  retiring,  and  almost  dif- 


BBamaaBEHr 


29 


fident  in  manners,  she  was  firm  and  decided  in 
maintaining  what  she  believed  was  the  right  and 
the  truth,  and  was  ever  ready  to  take  an  active 
part  in  whatever  she  thought  calculated  to  promote 
the  glory  of  her  Saviour  and  the  welfare  of  her 
fellow-creatures . 

It  is  not  for  me,  on  this  occasion,  to  speak  in  full 
of  her  literary  acquisitions  and  her  accomplish¬ 
ments.  They  were,  indeed,  many  and  various. 
Her  intellectual  powers,  naturally  of  a  superior 
order,  were  most  carefully  trained  and  developed. 
She  had  drawn  plentifully  from  the  treasures  of 
both  science  and  literature.  She  was  versed  in 
several  languages,  both  ancient  and  modern;  she 
was  well  acquainted  with  the  facts  and  teachings 
of  history,  and  of  Philosophy  and  Mathematical 
science.  And  not  only  was  she  familiar  with  those 
fields  of  knowledge,  the  investigation  of  which  was 
once  regarded  as  man’s  peculiar  prerogative,  hut 
her  attainments  in  elegant  accomplishments  were 
surpassed  by  few.  She  excelled  in  both  the  science 
and  art  of  music.  Her  soul  breathed  in  the  har¬ 
monious  strains  of  the  piano,  harp,  and  organ, 
with  which  she  mingled  the  tones  of  a  voice  not 
soon  forgotten  by  those  who  had  once  heard  it. 
***** 

Though  pensive  and  reflecting  in  disposition, 
she  was  cheerful,  and  enjoyed  the  innocent  plea¬ 
sures  of  life.  Whilst  she  strove  to  make  others 


liappy,  she  was  herself  so.  And  could  she  have 
been  otherwise?  Had  she  not  at  her  command 
every  source  of  real  enjoyment  which  can  he  pos¬ 
sessed  on  earth?  The  pleasures  of  the  intellect 
were  hers.  The  pleasures  of  the  imagination  were 
hers.  The  pleasures  of  social  intercourse  were 
hers.  The  pleasures  arising  from  the  mutual  out¬ 
pouring  of  pure  domestic  affection  were  hers.  But 
especially,  and  what  are  far  more  precious,  far 
more  desirable,  the  pleasures  of  a  pure  heart,  of  an 
approving  conscience,  of  frequent  and  intimate 
communion  with  God,  of  a  consciousness  of  living 
for  His  glory  and  the  welfare  of  others,  and  of  a 
true  Christian  hope.  Was  she  not  then  particu¬ 
larly  blessed?  Was  not  her  portion  even  in  this 
vale  of  tears  inestimably  precious — even  heaven 
begun  below.  Yea;  it  was  happiness,  pure,  satis¬ 
fying  and  abiding, — happiness  such  as  the  unsanc¬ 
tified  soul  knows  not,  and  cannot  understand. 

How  much  good  she  did  during  her  life  is  known 
only  to  God,  her  rewarder.  That  she  did  much, 
who  can  deny?  Many  who  have  gone  forth  from 
this  institution  prepared  for  the  warfare  of  life, 
have  felt  the  power  of  her  influence,  and  are  now 
manifesting  it  by  following  her  example.  In  them 
therefore,  she,  though  dead,  yet  speaketh.  Her 
earthly  light  has  been  extinguished,  hut  it  shall  he 
ever  seen  and  remembered  in  the  light  of  others 


31 


whom  she  was  instrumental  in  bringing  out  of 
darkness  into  Christ’s  marvellous  light. 

*  *  *  *  sK 

She  was  taken  away  in  the  zenith  of  her  useful¬ 
ness,  because  there  was  prepared  for  her  a  more 
honorable  place  in  the  kingdom  of  her  Saviour. 
The  servant  who  was  faithful  over  a  few  things, 
the  Great  Master  has  seen  fit  to  make  ruler  over 
many  things.  Though  ushered,  without  a  mo¬ 
ment’s  warning,  into  the  presence  of  her  God,  none 
who  knew  her,  and  who  believe  the  teachings  of 
the  Bible,  can  entertain  a  doubt  that  she  was  pre¬ 
pared  to  meet  Him.  Sudden,  indeed,  was  the 
coming  of  her  Lord,  hut  He  found  her  waiting, 
with  her  lamp  trimmed,  and  her  light  burning. 
True,  we  have  committed  her  body  to  the  keeping 
of  the  grave,  “earth  to  earth,  ashes  to  ashes,  dust 
to  dust;  looking  for  the  general  resurrection  in  the 
last  day,  and  the  life  of  the  world  to  come,  through 
our  Lord  Jesus  Christ;”  but  faith,  the  eye  through 
which  the  soul  sees  into  the  unseen  and  eternal, 
now  beholds  her  pure  and  happy  spirit  among  the 
white  robed,  rejoicing  in  the  presence  of  her  God, 
chanting  in  angel  choirs  those  praises  that  cease 
not  night  or  day.  Now,  blessing,  and  honor,  and 
glory,  are  hers.  Now,  the  dark  glass  having  been 
removed,  she  sees  face  to  face.  Now  she  who  was 
wise  shines  as  the  brightness  of  the  firmament; 
and  she  who  aided  in  turning  many  unto  righteous- 


mszzsmazmm as 


32 


J 

I  ness  shall  continue  to  shine  as  the  stars,  for  ever 
I  and  ever. 

>i<  ?K,  *  * 

Many  of  you  here,  to-clay,  have  known  her. 
Many  of  you  have  loved  her.  To  many  of  you 
has  she  gently  and  kindly  spoken  of  that  happy 
world  to  which  she  has  been  taken.  Here,  her 
sweet  smile  you  shall  see  no  more.  Here,  her 
pleasant  voice  you  shall  hear  no  more.  But 
I  though  now  far  away  in  realms  of  endless  bliss, 
I  she  has  not  ceased  to  care  for  you,  she  has  not 
I  ceased  to  love  you;  hut  she  calls  to  you  through 
!  that  bright  example  which  she  has  left  behind, 
j  saying  “come  up  hither.”  And  will  you  not  now 
j  heed  her  invitation?  Will  you  not  endeavor  by 
living  as  she  did,  to  go  up  to  her?  *  *  * 

Oh!  if  whilst  she  continued  a  member  of  this 
household,  you  disregarded  her  mild  admonitions 
and  her  kind  entreaties,  let  the  thought  that  she 
has  been  forever  taken  away,  now  incline  you  so  to 
bring  those  admonitions  and  entreaties  home  to 
your  hearts  and  consciences  as  to  influence  you 
constantly  to  prepare  to  meet  her.  How  begin  to 
follow  her  as  she  followed  her  Saviour  Like  her, 
even  now  in  the  days  of  your  youth,  choose  that 
good  part,  which,  when  once  attained,  can  never 
be  taken  away.  Like  her,  even  now  before  you 
become  absorbed  by  the  realities  of  life,  yield 
your  hearts  to  Christ,  set  your  affections  on 


33 


heavenly  things,  and  determine  to  live,  not  for 
time,  but  for  eternity;  not  for  self,  but  for  God. 
And  then  you  also  will  have  the  approbation  of 
your  Maker;  you  also  will  be  a  blessing  to  others; 
and  you  also  will  be  happy  in  this  world,  and 
unspeakably  happy  in  the  next.  The  smile  of 
God’s  reconciled  countenance  will  rest  on  you;  the 
Saviour  will  love  you;  the  Spirit  will  guide;  and 
whilst  you  will  enjoy  the  good  things  of  this  life, 
you  will  be  always  prepared  for  the  life  to  come. 

Bereaved  friends — what  shall  I  say  to  you!  no 
one  can  estimate  your  loss,  and  for  it  nothing  mere 
earthly  can  compensate.  But  can  you  repine  at 
the  wise  dispensation  of  God  in  removing  her 
hence?  Can  you  wish  that  she  had  not  been 
taken?  And  would  you,  if  you  could,  call  her 
back?  No;  for  your  great  loss  is  her  inestimable 
gain.  You  have  indeed  cause  to  mourn;  but  you 
have  also  ever  at  hand  a  source  of  consolation 
ineffably  precious.  Your  sorrowing  hearts  can 
also  be  hearts  of  rejoicing;  your  tears  can  be  tears 
of  thanksgiving;  for  you  have  the  most  blessed 
assurance  that  she  whom  you  love,  and  who  was 
so  suddenly  snatched  away  from  you,  is  now  in  the 
immediate  presence  of  that  Saviour  who  loved  her, 
who  died  for  her,  and  who  sanctified  her.  She 
belonged  to  him.  She  was  his  by  redemption;  his 
by  adoption;  and  now  she  shall  be  his  forever. 
He  gave  her  to  you  for  a  season.  That  season 


34  | 

was  ended,  and  his  own,  therefore,  he  took  to  he 
where  he  is,  to  behold  his  glory  and  delight  in  his 
love.  But  though  he  has  taken  her,  you  have  not 
lost  her.  She  has  been  removed  from  you  hut  for 
a  very  short  time.  No  ties  have  been  sundered. 
You  love  her  as  much  now  as  you  ever  did;  and 
you  will  still  love  her  till  you  are  again  united 
together,  never  more  to  part.  She  has  hut  gone  to 
her  Father’s  house  of  many  mansions.  There  she 
thinks  of  you;  there  she  still  loves  you;  and  there 
she  is  ready  to  welcome  you  when  your  journey  of 
life  shall  end.  Kemember  those  words  which  she 
so  often  sang,  and  let  them  he  for  your  comfort: 

“Cease,  my  soul,  O  cease  to  mourn. 

Press  onward  to  the  prize; 

Soon  thy  Saviour  will  return. 

To  take  thee  to  the  skies: 

There  is  everlasting  peace. 

Rest,  enduring  rest  in  heaven; 

There  will  sorrow  ever  cease. 

And  crowns  of  joy  be  given.’* 


35 


An  Abstract  of  the  conclusion  of  a  Sermon  preached 
in  St.  Peter's  Church ,  EllicotV s  Mills ,  Sunday , 
September  9,  1855,  by  Rev.  L.  Van  Bokkelen, 
Rector.  The  discourse  was  upon  the  text ,  UI 
have  a  message  from  God  unto  thee." 

What,  my  hearers,  can  apply  the  words  of  the 
text  more  directly,  or  with  more  power  to  our 
hearts,  than  the  event  which  has  so  sorely  afflicted 
the  beloved  members  of  a  family  in  our  vicinity. 

A  few  days  since  they  left  their  happy  home 
with  bright  anticipations — now  they  mourn  for  one 
who  by  an  event  as  cruel  as  it  was  reckless,  has 
been  separated  from  them  forever.  I  need  not  ask 
your  sympathy  and  prayers  for  the  bereaved  sur¬ 
vivors,  I  know  they  have  been  given,  and  from 
many  a  family  altar  the  petition  for  mercy  has 
ascended  to  God,  who  doth  not  willingly  afflict  or 
grieve  his  children.  We  as  a  congregation  are 
closely  linked  to  those  who  are  suffering,  not  only 
as  members  of  the  same  household  of  faith,  but  as 
the  recipients  of  their  kindness,  and  abundant 
liberality  in  helping  us  to  make  this  Church  what 
it  is,  the  house  of  God — free  from  all  claim  of  man. 
As  your  Pastor,  I  share  with  you  the  emotion  of 
gratitude,  and  fain  would  return  the  debt  as  our 
friends  would  most  wish  it  should  be  returned,  by 
the  fervent  prayer  that  it  may  please  God  to  defend 
and  provide  comfort  for  the  fatherless  children,  the 


36 


widows,  and  the  many  who  by  this  late  mysterious 
dispensation  are  “desolate  and  oppressed.” 

But  I  have  another  duty  to  perform — sweet,  yet 
mournful  to  the  soul.  Sweet,  because  it  is  to  record 
deeds  of  disinterested  love  for  Christ’s  heritage, 
His  Church, — mournful,  because  I  speak  of  one 
whose  willing  heart,  and  ready  hand  will  no 
longer  he  with  us  on  earth  to  devise  and  perform. 
We  all  remember  the  earnest  piety  and  devoted 
zeal  of  Miss  Lincoln. 

From  the  day  I  took  the  active  charge  of  this 
Church  up  to  the  last  time  it  was  my  privilege  to 
see  her,  she  was  our  same  firm  unchanging  friend. 
How  sincerely  did  she  rejoice  when  she  knew  our 
Sanctuary  would  be  freed  from  debt,  and  become 
the  temple  of  the  living  God — And  when  I  pro¬ 
posed  a  Fair  for  the  purpose  of  completing  and 
adorning  this  sanctuary,  no  one  labored  more 
faithfully  or  effectually  than  she.  Though  prepar¬ 
ing  for  a  voyage  to  Europe,  she  did  not  slacken  her 
diligence,  and  when  on  the  Fourth  of  July,  1854, 
I  saw  the  result  of  her  efforts — I  could  but 
exclaim  ££many  daughters  have  done  virtuously, 
but  thou  excellest  them  all.”  For  the  complete 
success  of  that  effort,  we  gratefully  acknowledge 
our  indebtedness  to  our  departed  friend.  This  was 
only  one  of  many  acts  proving  her  love  for  the 
Church,  and  we  are  only  one  of  many  congrega¬ 
tions  who  have  to  acknowledge  the  value  of  such  a 


37 


friend.  Well  do  I  remember  her  interest  in  the 
services  of  the  sanctuary,  and  readiness  to  conse¬ 
crate  her  talents  and  accomplishments  to  the  glory 
of  God.  Of  her  exquisite  taste  and  skill  in  church 
music  we  have  had  ample  evidence.  It  was  the 
last  Sunday  of  the  last  year,  when,  having  ap¬ 
pointed  a  special  service,  I  came  and  found  a  full 
church  but  no  arrangement  for  singing.  She  knew 
how  much  the  beauty  of  our  service  is  increased  by 
chants,  and  psalms,  and  hymns;  but  she  had  come 
here  not  expecting  to  take  any  leading  part,  as  she 
was  accustomed  to  do  in  their  own  Chapel  at  the 
Patapsco  Institute.  I  saw  her  sitting  in  a  pew  in 
the  body  of  the  Church.  We  read  the  first  “Glo¬ 
ria,”  but  when  I  read,  “here  endeth  the  first 
lesson, ”  the  organ  took  up  the  strain,  and  her 
voice  lead  the  chant,  “It  is  a  good  thing  to  give 
thanks  unto  the  Lord/’  and  through  that  service 
so  interesting  to  the  large  assembly,  almost  un¬ 
aided,  she  sung  the  praises  of  God.  Thus  was 
she  always  ready  to  do  her  part  in 'God’s  service  on 
earth,  and  now  she  sings  the  song  of  the  Lamb 
before  the  throne,  among  the  redeemed  out  of  every 
land  and  nation.  These  were  not  extraordinary 
incidents;  they  mark  the  general  tenor  of  her  life. 
I  might  speak  of  her  talents,  her  accomplishments, 
her  amiability,  her  benevolence — but  to  whom 
among  you  were  these  not  known,  or  who  ever 
spoke  otherwise  than  kindly  of  Miss  Lincoln?  Yet 


38 


she  is  gone.  Her  talents,  lier  usefulness,  her 
piety,  her  accomplishments,  could  not  shield  her. 
The  arrow  of  death  pierced  through  them  all. 
The  message  came  to  her  and  she  could  not  delay. 
The  message!  what  message,  “Friend  come  up 
higher,”  She  has  left  friends  in  sorrow,  to  join 
friends  in  glory.  Having  given  a  good  example 
and  departed  this  life  in  faith,  she  now  awaits  the 
day  when  the  brightness  of  Paradise  will  yield  to 
the  brighter  effulgence  of  Heaven. 

Extracts  from  a  Letter  of  Mrs.  E.  Willard,  to 
Mrs.  T.  B.  Bigelow  of  Cambridgeport ,  Mass, 
dated ,  Troy,  October  17,  1855. 

******** 

We  did  not  wait  till  “Heath  had  set  his  seal”  to 
appreciate,  and  to  show  our  appreciation  of  dear 
Jane’s  worth.  You  would,  I  think,  be  surprised 
at  the  very  great  degree  of  feeling  and  admiration 
for  her,  by  which  I  am  told  her  death  is  here  met. 
I  have  just  parted  from  Mr.  F.  who  says  he  thinks 
he  never  knew  a  person  so  universally  command¬ 
ing  the  entire  esteem  of  the  community;  or  of  a 
sudden  removal  as  causing  so  universal  a  shock. 
Yet  although  she  deserved  this  high  estimation, 
such  was  her  modest  appreciation  of  herself,  that 
she  was  ever  far  from  being  sensible  of  possessing 
it.  Her  good  qualities,  like  the  genial  air,  were 
gentle,  unobtrusive  and  constant;  and  it  was  only 


39 


by  their  being  withdrawn  that  society  became  sen¬ 
sible  of  their  inestimable  value.  But  for  those, 
and  they  were  numerous,  to  whom  she  was  truly 
known,  and  who  while  they  were  warmed  by  her 
mental  loveliness,  sent  back  its  reflection  to  cheer 
her  own  heart  while  her  day  of  life  lasted — in¬ 
stead  of  bestowing  their  praises  (for  which  indeed  I 
thank  the  givers)  like  flowers  to  deck  her  grave — 
for  those  I  feel  now  an  added  regard,  a  new  tie 
of  friendship. 

Extracts  from  a  letter  of  Mrs.  E.  Willard,  to  her 
niece ,  Mrs.  Emma  Willard  O’Brien,  dated  Troy, 
Oct.  23,  1855. 

^ 

I  have  this  morning  for  the  first  time,  found 
courage  to  read  that  precious  last  letter* — last — 
last  writing  traced  by  her  precious  hand; — that 
hand  so  skillful,  was  the  outward  instrument  of  an 
inner  soul  fraught  with  beauty  and  harmony. 
Think  what  that  hand  has  done,  and  what  it  was 
capable  of  doing.  Often  while  she  was  with  me, 
have  I  thought  of  the  worth  of  that  right  hand, 
and  what  she  would  lose,  if  aught  should  deprive 
her  of  its  use, — little  thinking  that  we  should  be 
deprived  of  it, — and  her.  But  the  beautiful  charac- 

*A  letter  written  by  Jane  to  her  aunt,  Mrs.  Willard,  from  the  Girard 
House  in  Philadelphia,  the  night  preceding  the  fatal  disaster,  to  inform 
her  that  the  party  were  on  their  way  to  New  York,  where  they  hoped 
she  would  meet  them. 


40 


ters  which  it  traced  were  hut  imitations  of  the 
archetypes  in  her  beautiful  mind — the  pure,  the 
highly  intelligent — the  loving  thoughts  conveyed, 
were  the  mind  itself.  The  exquisite  music  which 
with  such  wonderful  facility  that  hand  made  audi¬ 
ble,  whether  with  stringed  instruments,  the  sweet 
harp  and  guitar,  or  with  the  many-keyed  organ 
and  piano — that  music  existed  in  her  harmo¬ 
nious  soul;  and  the  hand  was  hut  the  living,  as 
the  instruments  were  the  dead  servants  which 
obeying  her  will,  we  heard,  entranced.  That  hand 
shall  decay,  and  the  matter  which  composes  it  pass 
into  various  new  compounds  of  material  things, 
hut  not  one  particle  of  it  shall  he  wasted.  That 
more  precious  soul  cannot  he  decomposed.  It  is 
one  and  indivisible;  and  Christ  has  bought  it — He 
whom  she  loved  to  confess,  and  whom  her  gifted 
hand  and  voice  best  loved  to  praise. 

***** 


41 


Before  concluding  this  “Tribute  to  the  Memory 
of  Jane  P.  Lincoln/ *  we  will  insert  a  letter  of  her 
own  to  a  bereaved  mother,  in  which  “though  dead 
she  yet  speaketh”  to  the  hearts  of  her  own  sorrow¬ 
ing  parent  and  friends. 

Letter  of  Miss  Lincoln  to  Mrs.  Lucie  G-arner, 
ividow  of  the  late  Capt.  Garner,  U.  S.  Army. 

Troy ,  April  Wi,  1852. 

My  Dear  Mrs.  Garner: 

In  a  letter  mamma  wrote  me  a  few  days 
since,  I  received  the  intelligence  of  the  calm  and 
peaceful  manner  in  which  your  beloved  daughter 
has  been  mercifully  removed  from  this  world  of  sin 
and  suffering  to  the  companionship  of  happy 
spirits.  For  who  that  knew  of  her  pure  and  holy 
life  can  doubt  that  she  is  now  realizing  the  truth 
of  those  blessed  promises  in  which  she  trusted  so 
implicitly?  She  had  lived  just  long  enough  to  feel 
her  solemn  responsibilities  as  an  immortal  being, 
and  in  the  days  of  health  and  of  strength,  she  had 
given  her  warm,  unsullied  affections  to  her 
Saviour. 

For  her  then  we  cannot  weep.  In  the  beautiful 
season  of  youth,  before  the  storms  of  worldly  sor¬ 
row  had  swept  over  her — like  a  young  and  tender 
plant  she  is  transplanted  to  a  more  genial  clime, 
and  in  the  garden  of  Paradise  you  will  find  her 
blooming  with  expanded  and  perfected  nature. 


42 


“ 


When  God  calls  from  us  those  we  love  most 
dearly,  it  is  grateful  to  our  feelings  to  know  that 
others  participate  with  us  in  our  griefs,  and  I 
desire  at  this  time  to  express  to  you  my  most  sin¬ 
cere  and  heart-felt  sympathy;  for  you  have  so  long 
been  a  member  of  our  household  that  we  share  in 
whatever  of  joy  or  sorrow  may  be  yours.  And  you 
are  bound  to  us  by  holy  ties,  for  we  remember 
how  in  the  dark  hour  of  our  affliction  you  were 
unwearied  in  your  devotion  at  the  bed  of  the 
dying* — and  constant  to  your  sad  watch,  even  to 
the  last  trying  moment,  when  the  struggling  spirit 
escaped  from  its  earthly  prison-house. 

Mamma  wrote  me  of  the  very  interesting  dis¬ 
course  preached  by  Mr.  Clarkef  last  Sunday, — and 
may  the  pious  life  and  the  Christian  death  of  your 
sainted  daughter,  be  blessed  to  her  youthful  com¬ 
panions,  and  to  each  one  of  us,  so  that  when  we 
shall  be  summoned  hence,  we  may — like  her — 
gently  fall  asleep  on  earth,  to  wake  in  Heaven. 

With  my  kindest  love  to  mamma,  most  truly 
and  affectionately  yours, 

Jane  P.  Lincoln. 

*  Allusion  is  here  made  to  the  death  of  the  Hon.  John  Phelps,  her 
kind  and  loving  step-father,  for  whom  she  mourned  with  a  daughter’s 
affection. 

t  Then  Chaplain  of  the  Patapsco  Institute. 


43 


From  the  Troy  (N.  Y.)  Whig. 

0  B  I  T  U  A  E  Y  . 

Among  the  victims  who  met  a  sudden  death  in 
the  terrible  accident  that  occurred  at  Burlington, 
1ST.  J.,  on  the  29th  of  August  last,  was  Miss  Jane 
Porter  Lincoln,  daughter  of  Mrs.  Lincoln  Phelps, 
now  of  Maryland.* 

In  the  recollections  of  many  among  us,  Miss 
Lincoln  was  associated  with  those  early  memories 
which  cling  closest  about  the  heart,  and  whose 
severed  links,  as  they  drop,  one  by  one,  around  us, 
seem  like  lost  gems  from  our  most  valued  treasures. 
As  she  came  forward  in  life,  we  watched  the  devel¬ 
opment  of  those  traits  which  finally  constituted  a 
character  firm  in  the  right,  energetic  in  action,  as 
well  as  amiable  and  kind  in  all  the  social  relations. 
That  harmony  in  which  she  so  much  delighted 
seemed  to  pervade  her  whole  being. 

In  her  personal  friendships  she  was  ardent,  sin¬ 
cere  and  unchanging.  But  her  distinguishing 
characteristic — that  which  will  at  once  present 
itself  to  all  who  knew  her,  was  the  retiring  mo¬ 
desty  and  diffidence,  the  unassuming  and  unobtru¬ 
sive  simplicity  of  heart  and  manner,  which  led  her, 
though  fitted  by  education  and  accomplishments 


*  Her  father,  Simeon  Lincoln,  of  Connecticut,  a  man  of  genius  and 
highly  cultivated  taste,  died  in  her  early  childhood.  Mrs.  Lincoln 
with  her  two  daughters,  Jane  and  Emma,  came  to  Troy,  where  she 
remained  associated  with  her  sister,  Mrs.  Emma  Willard,  in  the  Troy 
Seminary,  until  her  marriage  to  Mr.  Phelps,  of  Vermont. 


44 


1 


for  a  conspicuous  and  dazzling  prominence,  to  pre-  | 
fer  the  quiet  circle  of  congenial  minds,  and  gentle 
sympathies.  In  her  loss,  we  feel  as  though  life’s 
pathway  had  been  robbed  of  one  of  its  sweetest 
flowers — as  though  the  beams  of  a  cheering,  placid 
star  had  been  withdrawn  from  us  forever. 

But  our  own  sorrow,  deep  and  poignant  as  it 
may  be,  shrinks  into  nothing  when  we  think  of 
those  kindred  hearts  made  desolate,  crushed  and 
bleeding  by  this  sudden  and  overwhelming  calam¬ 
ity.  That  revered  and  beloved  Aunt,  whose  doting 
fondness  could  scarcely  be  exceeded  by  a  mother’s 
love,  to  whom  she  had  so  long  been  as  “the  light 
of  her  dwelling;”  the  companion  of  her  retire¬ 
ment,  the  pride  of  her  social  life — that  stricken 
Mother,  from  whose  very  side  she  was  torn,  in  all  1 
the  vigor  of  health,  and  glow  of  filial  affections — 
those  sisters  and  that  brother,  to  whom  she  had 
been  as  a  spirit  of  love  and  kindness;  prompting 
them  to  all  that  was  good,  and  generous,  and  | 
noble — to  these,  how  poor  are  all  our  sympathies;  1 
how  empty  all  human  consolations.  While  we  I 
mingle  our  tears  with  theirs,  we  can  only  say,  help  1 
Lord,  for  the  strength  of  man  faileth! 

Miss  L.  had  travelled  much,  and  had  had  many 
narrow  escapes  from  danger.  When  journeying 
with  her  Aunt,  Mrs.  Willard,  in  Ohio,  a  few  years 
since,  the  stage  in  which  they  were,  was  over¬ 
turned,  and  Mrs.  W.  taken  up  insensible,  and 


45 


! 


severely  injured.  A  year  or  two  later,  slie  was  on 
board  the  steamboat  Empire,  when  that  vessel  was 
sunk  in  the  Hudson  river,  and  so  many  lives  were 
lost.  Little  more  than  a  twelvemonth  since  she 
accompanied  her  Aunt  in  a  European  tour,  and  on 
their  voyage  out,  the  ship  took  fire,  and  they  were 
in  great  peril.  On  their  return,  they  were  pre¬ 
vented  by  circumstances*  from  taking  passage  in 
the  “Arctic,”  while  some  of  their  fellow-travellers 
embarked  in  that  ill-fated  vessel,  and  went  down 
amid  its  darkness  and  woe.  But  the  fatal  moment 
had  at  length  come;  and  buoyant  with  glad  hopes 
and  bright  anticipations,  the  family  group  rushed 
on,  as  it  were,  to  meet  the  fell  destroyer.  There 
was  a  shock — a  crash — and  with  scarcely  a  mo¬ 
ment’s  mental  or  physical  suffering;,  without  a 
blow  to  mar  her  frame;  without  even  a  shade  of 
alarm  or  anxiety  upon  her  countenance,  she  passed 
into  eternity. 

From  her  childhood,  Miss  Lincoln  had  been 
seriously  inclined,  and  early  became  a  communi¬ 
cant  in  St.  John’s  Church  of  this  city;  but  from 
the  time  of  the  accident  to  the  Empire,  before 
alluded  to,  she  had  seemed  to  be  more  deeply  im¬ 
pressed  with  the  necessity  of  a  constant  preparation 

*  The  consent  of  Mrs.  Phelps  to  comply  with  the  urgent  request  of 
her  sister  and  daughter,  to  join  them  in  Europe  in  company  with  her  son 
and  youngest  daughter,  induced  Mrs.  W.  to  remain  longer  abroad,  and 
thus  prevented  her  return  and  that  of  her  niece  in  the  ill-fated  Arctic. 


46 


for  that  summons  which  cometh  “when  we  think 
not.”  The  awful  solemnity  of  that  hour,  the  view 
which  she  then  had  of  the  eternal  world;  standing 
as  she  did,  in  the  very  gates  of  death,  with  her 
fellow  beings  perishing  around  her;  as  well  as 
gratitude  for  her  own  preservation  from  a  watery 
grave,  induced  with  her  the  firm  resolve  thence¬ 
forth  to  live  less  for  earth,  and  more  for  Heaven. 
In  her  piety,  as  in  her  life,  she  was  not  ostenta¬ 
tious;  hut  many  a  young  heart  will  remember 
her  kind  teachings  and  gentle  efforts,  to  win  it 
from  its  waywardness,  and  lead  it  to  the  Saviour. 

From  her  long  connection  with  the  Female  Sem¬ 
inary  in  this  place,*  as  well  as  from  mingling 
much  in  the  society  of  our  larger  cities,  she  had 
formed  an  extensive  acquaintance  almost  through¬ 
out  the  Union.  To  her  many  friends,  North  and 
South,  the  news  of  her  melancholy  fate  has  come 
with  startling  sorrow.  But  no — we  will  not  think 
with  sadness  of  one  whose  sojourn  here  was  marked 
by  so  much  purity,  and  happiness,  and  love.  The 
bright,  the  good,  the  beautiful  around  us  shall  he 
to  us,  Hear  Friend,  remembrances  of  thee.  The 
shrinking  violet,  when  the  mild  breath  of  Spring 
opens  its  petals,  and  scatters  its  fragrance,  shall 
bring  to  us  memories  of  thy  unpretending  worth. 

*  Jane  graduated  at  the  Troy  Seminary  at  the  age  of  eighteen;  her 
valedictory  address  was  translated  into  French  by  Madam  Belloc,  and 
published  in  “La  Ruche.’* 


The  music  of  birds  and  brooks  will  waken  in  our 
hearts  echoes  of  thy  notes  of  melody  and  song;  and 
when  we  gaze  into  the  clear  blue  sky  at  evening 
hour,  we  shall  seem  to  hear  thy  harp,  now  tuned 
to  loftier,  holier  strains,  amid  the  winged  choir 
around  the  throne  of  everlasting  light. 

Extracts  from  an  Address  of  Mrs.  Lincoln  Phelps  j 
to  the  Pupils  of  the  Patapsco  Institute ,  read  to 
them  by  the  Presiding  Teacher ,  Miss  Wood, 
October  26,  1855. 

sfs  sf:  sfr  sfc 

The  last  time  of  my  addressing  the  pupils  in  the 
place  where  you  are  now  assembled,  was  at  the 
public  commencement,  July  18,  1855,  closing  the 
school  year.  Many  of  you  were  present  on  that 
occasion.  You  remember  who  it  was  that  stood  by 
me,  in  all  the  freshness  of  health,  and  dignity  of 
conscious  rectitude  and  virtue; — who  it  was  that 
handed  me  each  Diploma,  whispering  the  name 
appended  that  I  might  call  the  young  lady  forward 
to  present  her  testimonial.  You  remember  who  it 
was  that  joined  in  the  singing  of  the  “Parting 
Hymn;”  and  her  thrilling  solo, 

“Guard  us  while  shadows  lie 
Far  o’er  life’s  journey  spread, 

Thou  that  hast  looked  on  death 
Aid  us  when  death  is  near.9* 

How  little  thought  we  then,  that  to  her,  death 
was  so  near ! — that  in  a  few  short  weeks  she  would 


48 

be  with  us  no  more! — that  so  soon  her  place  on 
earth  should  be  left  vacant.  Yes,  in  some  respects, 
it  is  vacant,  and  it  must  be  vacant.  Where  can 
we  find  combined  in  one  person  all  her  accomplish¬ 
ments,  virtues  and  piety f  Favoring  circumstances 
had  given  her  early  advantages  for  education.  On 
the  death  of  her  father,  Simeon  Lincoln,  of  Connec¬ 
ticut,  she  was  taken  at  the  age  of  six  years,  with 
her  younger  sister  Emma,  to  the  Troy  Seminary, 
where  she  remained  a  pupil  until  she  graduated,  at 
the  age  of  eighteen.  For  eight  years,  or  while  I 
remained  connected  with  that  Institution,  I  super¬ 
intended  her  course  of  studies,  and  the  develop¬ 
ment  of  her  mind  and  character.  After  a  change 
in  my  domestic  relations  I  went  to  reside  in  Ver¬ 
mont;  (where  for  many  years  was  my  beautiful 
home  among  the  romantic  scenery  of  the  Green 
and  White  Mountains,  in  the  valley  of  the  Connec¬ 
ticut  River)  Jane  spent  her  vacations  with  me 
there,  and  highly  enjoyed  domestic  life  amidst 
rural  scenes. 

Let  me  in  imagination  carry  you  to  a  large  and 
pleasant  mansion,  surrounded  by  graceful  trees 
and  shrubbery.  Here  were  happy  young  girls, 
sisters  and  step-sisters,  loving  each  other,  and  all 
united  in  efforts  to  make  her  happy,  who  sought  to 
be  alike  a  mother  to  all.  Lucy  Phelps,  one  of 
Jane’s  step-sisters,  then  about  sixteen  years  old, 
was  a  remarkable  girl — her  mind  was  matured  far 


49 


above  her  years; — slie  had  become  a  professor  of 
religion,  having  ratified  her  baptismal  vows  in 
Confirmation,  and  in  the  reception  of  the  Holy 
Communion.  Lucy  was  gifted  with  genius  and 
great  strength  of  mind.  It  was  her  chief  desire  to 
improve  herself  in  every  way;  to  do  right,  and  to 
be  useful  to  others.  She  was  playful  and  amusing, 
and  possessed  great  powers  of  conversation. 

From  Guilford  (where  we  lived  at  the  period  to 
which  I  now  refer,)  to  the  neighboring  town  of 
Brattleborough,  the  distance  is  about  three  miles. 
The  girls  thought  little  of  walking  there,  for  shop- 
ing  or  visits.  About  half  way  is  a  water-fall, 
not  less  picturesque  than  many  in  Europe,  which 
are  celebrated  among  travellers.  The  interesting 
scenery  about  this  fall,  often  tempted  the  girls 
to  linger  in  their  walks. 

“Here,”  said  Jane  to  me,  as  we  last  visited  that 
region  together,  and  passed  the  water-fall,  “did 
Lucy  and  I  sit  one  summer  day,  when  she,  by  her 
beautiful  narrative  of  a  story  she  had  been  reading, 
riveted  for  hours,  my  attention.” 

Lucy’s  grave  was  made  in  her  eighteenth  sum¬ 
mer,  she  died  happy  in  the  hope  of  a  resurrection 
to  life  eternal. 

Hext  in  age  to  Lucy,  of  her  father’s  children, 
were  Elizabeth  and  Ann,  very  different  in  character, 
but  full  of  life,  joyousness,  humor  and  intelligence; 
they  became  humble  followers  of  the  Kedeemer, 


50 


and  He  took  them,  in  early  life,  to  Himself — 
they  had  both  married,  but  no  ties  of  affection 
could  bind  them  to  earth; — their  graves  are  in 
distant  localities,  and  the  rank  grass  has  long 
waved  over  their  last  resting  places. 

Among  that  once  happy  group  of  young  girls 
were  Jane,  and  Emma  Lincoln,  to  whom  the  ac¬ 
quisition  of  so  many  new  sisters  had  been  a  source 
of  satisfaction,  rather  than  a  cause  of  jealousy,  as 
is  too  often  the  case  with  young  persons  under 
similar  circumstances.  Let  me  depict  one  scene 
which  is  daguerreotyped  upon  my  memory  in  vivid 
colors,  and  distinct  outline.  In  the  centre  of  our 
pleasant  garden,  was  a  mound  surmounted  by  an 
octagon  summer-house,  called  the  “garden  tem¬ 
ple/  '  To  this  place  on  a  pleasant  evening  in 
early  summer,  the  father  and  mother  were  invited 
to  a  feast  of  field  strawberries,  which  the  girls  had 
gathered.  While  the  parents  were  seated  in  the 
temple,  the  daughters  formed  a  ring,  and  danced 
merrily  around  the  mound  to  a  joyous  melody  in 
which  all  united. 

Where  are  all  those  young  girls?  Three  of  the 
sisters  died  young.  One  of  them,  she  whose  recent 
loss  so  many  have  mourned,  was  spared  for  succes¬ 
sive  years; — she  had  pursued  her  plans  for  self-im¬ 
provement,  and  for  usefulness; — her  life  had  been 
rich  in  events  of  a  nature  to  develope  her  affection 
and  her  intellect.  She  was  always  a  pupil,  ever 


51 


seeking  to  learn  something  good,  to  improve  her 
stock  of  knowledge,  and  to  perfect  herself  in 
accomplishments . 

Some  of  you  knew,  and  well  remember  her. 
You  have  seen  her  in  religious  worship,  leading  in 
the  praises  of  the  Sanctuary  with  her  e  ‘well-tuned’  ’ 
voice; — you  have  seen  her  kneel  to  receive  the  Holy 
Communion.  You  have  known  her  as  a  kind  ad¬ 
viser,  anxious  that  you  should  improve  all  your  ad¬ 
vantages,  that  you  should  he  sincere,  and  good; — 
you  were  happy  to  gain  her  approbation; — but  on 
earth  you  will  see  her  no  more; — you  will  hear  no 
more  the  sweet  music  of  her  voice; — the  chords  of 
her  harp  and  piano  are  silent; — no  hand  has  yet 
touched  them  since  her  departure; — she  is  no  more 
seen  at  the  organ  in  the  Chapel,  or  at  the  melo- 
deon  in  our  family  prayers.  But  her  example  re¬ 
mains  for  your  imitation.  What  a  consolation  to  a 
parent’s  heart  to  know  that  the  child  whom  she 
mourns,  was  loved  and  esteemed  by  others — that 
her  life  can  be  pointed  to  as  worthy  of  imitation; — 
and  especially  that  while  she  was  prepared  to  fill 
with  usefulness,  honor  and  grace,  any  situation  in 
life,  she  was  also  “ready,”  by  faith  and  a  life  of 
humble  piety,  for  the  world  of  spirits. 

Jfc  5j« 


